Can't Be Held Responsible
by oypoodle
Summary: And every single time it happened again, she would feel sick to her stomach because it was no ones fault but her own that she stuck around.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the office or the Jim/Pam relationship. If I did, Pam wouldn't be with Jim, I would be. And I would be doing naught- coughs Never mind. I don't own anything.

**Rating:** It is rated so because of some language and references to abuse.

--

Jim walked out of the office, headache forming behind his eyes and bad mood more than evident. He pulled his coat tighter around him as a cool gust of wind swung through and he breathed out, watching as his breath spread out before him in a faint smoke.

His day was awful, to say the least. He hated to admit it but his days were always awful when Pam wasn't there. It happened rarely, so rarely that he was never accustomed to it. But those days did happen. She would call in sick, or take a vacation, or just not come in without any call.

Jim sat at his desk all day, strategically putting off all necessary work and sending Pam random e-mails on her work address for her to check when she got back.

_Hey Pam. I am really bored. You know how much I hate it when you aren't here. I keep looking up to tell you something and Ryan is there. I think he thinks I like him in that 'special way'. You are to thank for my new homosexual reputation._

He'd drum his fingers on his desk and try to flick things in Dwight's cup but everything got boring in less than five minutes. Without his conspirator he was hopelessly lost.

_Pam. I am dying here. Seriously._

_I have found seven mosquito bites on my arm. I have no idea where they came from. I looked up on the Internet if they were some indications of flesh eating disease. Good news, they weren't._

Michael came over to his desk and asked him about his progress on the financial reports and his revenue so far this year. He made up some bullshit answer and flipped through papers, never looking him in the eye. Michael always was the easiest to full.

_So in office news, my revenue report has now reached an all-new record of lateness. What was it last time? Seven days? Ah, including today, my revenue report is twelve days, seven hours, and fourteen minutes late. Score._

_Dwight just picked his nose. Absolutely brilliant._

_My leg is twitching. Do you remember when your cheek didn't stop twitching for four hours and we tried all that stuff to try and make it stop? Well I attached clothespins to the infected area but it still won't stop._

_Have you heard that song called Wah-Wah? Well, I demand you listen to it because I was just observing the internet and I found it on some site and its twenty kinds of amazing. Now, I know what you're thinking. How can a song with the lyrics 'Wah-Wah' possibly be good? Well, there are other lyrics, better than Wah-Wah, and I have included a music file for your listening pleasure._

After e-mail forty-seven, he looked at the clock and saw he could have left ten minutes ago. He felt a smile reach his tired features and he stood up from his desk, mumbling an incoherent goodbye to Ryan on his way out. Ryan just gave him a strange look and continued with his work.

He walked out of the office, and into his car where he rested his aching head on the wheel for several moments. He had the urge to slam his head against the horn and leave it there, letting the beep echo through the silent parking lot, a physical representation of his horrible mood.

But the noise would further agitate his already painful headache and bring out Dwight to investigate. That also would increase the pounding in his head.

He heaved a sigh and put the keys in the ignition letting the dull roar of the engine interrupt his fantasies of blowing his brains out.

On the drive home, he heard seven songs that were absolutely horrible with only one that was to his liking. He kept the volume to a minimum though, not really caring what was playing.

His couch at home looked even more wonderful than he imagined at the office. He gave a grateful smile and kicked off his shows and shrugged off his jacket, shuffling over to the mass of pillows.

He no sooner collapsed into the couch headfirst when his phone began to ring. He let out a moan in the pillow and lifted up his head giving him the view to glare at it ruefully.

It stopped after several rings.

"Hey it's Jim. Leave a message after the funny little beeping noise."

The machine beeped and silence echoed over the phone followed by someone hastily hanging up. He arched his eyebrow but gave it no more thought.

He turned over in the couch so that he was on his back and facing the ceiling. He traced the cracks in the ceiling back and forth with his eyes until they became too heavy to hold up any longer. He allowed them to droop close and he watched the spots behind his eyelids linger with slight amusement.

His body had finally relaxed and his headache began to subside when a knock at the door caused him to force open his eyes and turn his head. He sighed and slammed his feet down on the couch like a two year old throwing a fit.

Jim rolled off with a thump, hitting the hardwood flooring with his knees and letting out a moan of pain. He swore to God, if it was another one of his neighbors, drunk and looking for their own apartment, he was going to slam the door on their overly inflated heads.

He sauntered over to the door and pulled back the locks before swinging it open and putting on an agitated face.

"What do you-"

His voice lost all menacing tone and his facial features dropped right along with his stomach.

"Pam?"

There she was, standing on his small apartment mat his mother had given him for Christmas, looking ten times worse than he did, or felt for that matter.

Her coat collar was only half up and her shirt was half in, half out of her jeans. Her hair was out of its normal half pony tail and it fell around her shoulders in disarray, frizzy and completely out of place.

And then he looked at her face. It was completely covered in tears. Her eyes were poofy from crying and her mascara ran down her cheeks in think rivets.

Her cheeks. On her left cheek was a bruise forming. Only slightly purple but a bruise nonetheless. She looked up at him with wide eyes, like an innocent child lost at a carnival.

"Jim, I-" She paused and looked at the floor. "I tried to call but-" She swallowed and more tears poured down her cheeks.

He reached for her wrist gently, taking it in his hand and pulling her into his apartment. He closed the door behind her and watched as she silently stood, staring blankly at his wall.

He guided her to his couch by her shoulders and allowed her to sit down. He was going into the kitchen to grab some ice and napkins when he felt her hand on his in a death grip.

"Don't leave me." She whispered, still looking at the ground.

He frowned and squatted down so he was eye level. He tilted her chin up with his fore finger. "I'm just going into the kitchen to get some stuff to clean you up. I'll be right back. I promise."

She nodded slowly and released his hand. He gave her a small smile and stood up, brushing off his pants.

Once in the kitchen, he began to completely freak out. He was upset that his friend was hurt and he was hurting for her emotionally but he was also uncontrollably angry at whoever had did this to her. The anger burrowed in his stomach and flamed up, causing his hands to shake and his face to feel overly hot. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before grabbing the washcloth and ice off the counter.

He walked back in the room to see her much in the same position. She was sitting upright on his couch, hands folded together between her knees. Her shoulders were slumped and tears continued to run down her cheeks accompanied by the occasional sniffle.

He carefully sat down beside her and sat the ice down on the table. He took the washcloth in his hand and turned her face gently so that she faced him. He started wiping her cheeks where her mascara had run carefully, gently going over her bruise. He could feel her eyes concentrated on him and when he went over the bruise she let out a ragged sigh and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Does it hurt?" He whispered softly. His voice sounded loud in the silent apartment.

She opened her eyes. "Yeah."

He nodded and put the washcloth down on the table, reaching for the bad of ice. He took her face with one hand and put the ice on her cheek with the other. She winced at the cold and then opened her eyes again.

They held eye contact before she looked away, looking at the floor. He removed the hand that wasn't holding the ice away from her cheek and let it slip to his lap.

He didn't want to press the issue but he needed to know. "What happened?"

She looked up at him then away again before speaking softly. "I left Roy."

He sat in shocked silence for a minute, noticing that the hand that was holding the ice to her face was now completely numb. "And he-" Jim swallowed. "He hit you?"

He noticed the tears were falling again and she reached up to his hand, taking the ice. He removed his hand and let it fall uselessly by his side. He watched as she stood up carefully and put down the ice and then removed her jacket. He watched her in confusion as she untucked her shirt.

"Pam, what are you-"

She turned to him and lifted up her shirt to just above her belly button. He saw that her stomach was covered in purple, yellow, and blue bruises.

"Let's just say," She spoke forcefully, her tears coming in waves and breathing hitched. "It hasn't been the first time I tried to leave."

Jim stared at the marks in horror before looking at her face. He stood up and walked to her as she let her shirt drop back down to cover her. He wrapped his arms around Pam and she buried her head in his chest, her sobs shaking her body.

He smoothed down her hair and kissed the top of her head, just holding her in the middle of his small apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Please notice the change in rating due to the requests of several readers. Thanks.**

Thanks for those reviews guys. They really make me smile. Especially the "bust a cap", that one emitted a giggle.

--

Jim woke up to a throbbing pain in his neck and an aching numbness in his feet. He cracked open his eyes slowly and looked blankly up at his plastered ceiling. He was on the couch, that much was obvious, in possibly the most uncomfortable position ever.

His legs were up on his coffee table, crossed over one another, effectively cutting off all blood flow. His head must have leaned over the back of the couch in his sleep, stretching his neck out to the point of almost breaking.

He brought his head up carefully, wincing along with the searing pain, and looked down to his side. There was Pam, taking up most of the couch, curled up in a little ball. She looked defensive in her sleep, her brow furrowed and lips pursed. He noticed that she was still clutching his hand tightly, held just above her heart.

He wanted to take her in his arms and paint away all the bruises. He wanted to kiss her tears away. He wanted to tell her everything was going to be okay. He wanted to tell her that nothing horrible was ever going to happen again. That she was safe now. That he would protect her.

But there was that annoying voice in the back of his head, telling him, screaming at him saying, "You can't protect her. You can't save her. You can barely take care of yourself. How are you going to take care of her?"

He pushed the voice further into the back of his head, thinking the mantra of "I can protect her. I can protect her. I can protect her."

He sighed and looked down at her again. She squirmed slightly in her sleep, turning her face so that the bruise in question directly faced him. He sighed when he saw it. A low, almost inaudible sigh.

Her cheek had swelled through the night and was now a slight shade of purple; the outer edges a more bluish color. He wanted to take his hand and wipe away the pain but touching her would be a bad idea, especially after Roy had taken advantage of her in such a way.

He still couldn't believe that Roy had been abusing her for so long. He was angry with himself more than anything for not noticing. She was his best friend and he saw her every single day. How could he not notice the pain she was in? The bruises? Granted, her clothing hid the bruises but he still should have noticed. He should have noticed winces of pain or grimaces or something. Not been completely oblivious.

He sighed again, rubbing his neck with his free hand and looked down at her. She was in a deep sleep, probably the only sleep she had gotten for months. He hoped for her sake it was a dreamless one.

He carefully removed his hand from hers, causing her to only squirm a little. Once freed from her death like grip, he stretched above his head and stood up. He noticed with slight amusement that he was still wearing his clothing from the previous day, his tie hanging loosely around his neck.

He shrugged it off and shuffled into the small kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee and looking in the cabinets for something edible to make them for breakfast. He located a loaf of bread in the fridge behind a half empty bottle of beer and an old pizza box.

He had just gotten the coffee off and the toast in the toaster when Pam shuffled into the room and slumped down in the nearest chair.

"Good morning." He said to her with his back still turned, pouring cups of coffee. She didn't answer and he chose a seat across from her, sliding a cup of coffee her way.

Pam took it gratefully, giving him a tight smile as she did so. She didn't even bother to put in sugar or cream, just sipped the black liquid carefully.

He drummed his fingers on the table nervously, not sure what to say to her. He had no idea how to comfort her. He had no experience with this. She seemed to notice his discomfort because she looked up at him then away quickly.

"Jim, uh," She took a breath. "I'm sorry about barging in on you last night. You're great for letting me stay. I'll be out of your hair today. I promise."

His eyes snapped up from the table to hers. She wasn't looking at him.

"Pam-" He stuttered her name and she looked up at him, a small smile on her lips. "Where are you going to go?"

The smile dropped from her lips and she wrapped her long fingers around the warm cup. "I don't know. I was thinking about going to my moms."

"But that's four hours away. How are you going to get back and forth to work?"

"Work?" She said quietly. It was obvious she hadn't thought about this small detail yet. "Oh, right. Well, I guess I could stay with Angela or something."

Jim smiled. "Angela? Seriously?" She looked up at him, smiling as well. "Pam, you are more than welcome to stay here as long as you need. It'll be good to have another person in here."

"What do you mean? Don't you live with Mark?"

"Oh, Mark moved out a couple weeks ago. His mom is sick and he is staying there to take care of her."

"But all my stuff is still at-" She stopped abruptly, a look of fear and pain sweeping over her face. He covered her quickly.

"Don't worry about it. I'll stop by and grab what you need. Until then, I have some sweats and t shirts in my closet you can borrow."

She looked up at him shyly. "Thanks Jim, for everything. You didn't have to do this."

He gave her a smile. "You're my best friend. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't take you in?"

They sat in silence, just looking at each other when the toaster buzzed. Pam jumped slightly at the loud noise and Jim gave her an apologetic glance. Her cheeks reddened slightly as he got up to get plates and the toast.

He set the plate in front of her. "Sorry, it was either this or pizza. I figured toast was a more appropriate breakfast food."

She smiled slightly. "This is fine."

She took tiny bites, careful not to chew on the left side of her mouth. With every movement of her jaw, a shock of pain shot through her cheek. She winced slightly. Jim noticed.

"Still hurt, huh?"

She looked up at him quickly then averted her eyes again. "Yeah. But it goes away. Just a little soreness at first."

He hated that she knew how long it hurt for. No one should have practice with this type of thing.

"Do you want some Advil or something?" Pam could tell he was more than awkward with this subject and she hated throwing it on him.

"No, I'll be fine. I promise."

He seemed satisfied with this answer but then she felt his gaze on her again. She looked up at him to see his eyes on hers.

"What?"

"I was just, uh, wondering-" He took a breath and looked her in the eye. "How long has this been going on?"

She wanted to lie to him at first. To say not very long. That she hadn't been in pain for over a year now. That she hadn't cried herself to sleep every night. But he was looking at her with those round eyes and she couldn't lie. Not to him, never to him.

"A year or so I guess."

He took a sharp intake of breath and she saw anger flash across his eyes before being replaced by sadness again.

"Why?" The question was simple but he said it with such emotion, it almost broke her heart.

"Uh," She looked anywhere but him. "It was my fault really. I was yelling at him for going to too many bars. I never gave him enough space."

"Oh, Pam. This isn't your fault." She looked at him, tears building behind her eyes. "This was never your fault."

Her sadness was being replaced by anger. "Don't say that. Please. Just don't."

"It wasn't your fault. What he did to you-" She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed forcefully. "That is not your fault."

She stood up from the table, her chair emitting a loud squeak against the linoleum flooring. "Jim, don't."

He stood up too and took a step towards her, reaching for her hand. She took a step back, forcing her body away from his. She couldn't look at him; his eyes were too full of sadness for her. It hurt.

It was always easier to blame herself, to believe that she had done something wrong. That Roy had a reason to hurt her and it was all justifiable. It wasn't all pointless. That she deserved what she got.

She could feel the tears spilling down her cheeks now, going over the bruised and knotted skin. She wrapped her arms around her body protectively and sunk to the ground, what she always did when Roy got that look in his eyes.

Jim squatted down and reached for her hands, placing his palms on her forearms. "Pam, this isn't your fault. It was never your fault. Okay?"

She looked up at him, shaking her head, tears falling freely. "Then why doesn't he love me?"

He didn't answer, just looked at her sadly.

"What did I do that he doesn't love me?" Her words were coming out in choked sobs.

He felt her pain echo through his body and he reached around her, taking her in his arms again. And for the second time in twenty-four hours, he had the woman he loved in his arms, crying herself to sleep.

--

He had carried her to the couch and put her down, covering her with a blanket and kissing her forehead gently. He figured this would be the best time to retrieve her things because she wouldn't try to stop him on the way out or change her mind about staying with him. He didn't want that to happen. He was convinced she was safest here. He was convinced he could protect her.

So he wrote her a note and left it on the table saying he was running out to get some food and grabbed his keys, walking out the door and shutting it softly behind him.

He knew the way to her house, he had been there several times before to pick stuff up or pick her up, whatever. But when he got there, in front of the house she shared with Roy for so many years, he found himself incapable of getting out of the car.

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel and he was sweating at his hairline. He could barely hear the music blaring on the radio and his feet were tapping nervously. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He was doing this for Pam. He would just go in, get her stuff, and leave.

Shit, he didn't have a key.

His eyes snapped open. Jim looked into the driveway and saw that Roy's truck was, indeed, there. He heaved another sigh and unclenched his hands from the wheel. It took great effort for him to open his car door and make it to the front porch. He wasn't even sure how he did it.

He rang the doorbell, the vibrations of sound echoing through the otherwise silent house. The silence remained for a few seconds and then he heard someone stumbling towards the door. It swung open in a flourish and there stood Roy, in all his drunken glory.

The fear of having to confront Roy left Jim immediately and was replaced by a deep anger. He wasn't afraid of this man, this low life of human creation. He was angry at him, angry beyond belief. He was pissed that he could do something so horrible to someone so innocent for so long.

Roy smiled up at him.

"Hey there Jim-bo. Want a beer?"

Jim rolled his eyes and pushed past Roy into the house, looking around for things Pam would need.

Roy shut the door with a shrug and followed Jim as he went up the stairs, two at a time. Obviously, Roy had a little trouble with this action.  
He was just stumbling into their bedroom as Jim was in the closet, pulling clothes down and slinging them over his arm.

"Hey, you haven't seen my wife have you?"

Jim continued pulling clothes down without paying much attention to Roy. "She isn't your wife Roy."

Roy looked at him in confusion and then giggled. "Oh right." His humor was replaced by confusion, as he comprehended what Jim was doing. "What are you doing with my wife's clothes?"

Jim came out of the closet and threw her clothes down on the bed, going back into the closet for a bag to hold them in. He shoved them in haphazardly as Roy grew angry behind him.

"Hey! Why are you taking her stuff?"

Jim continued to ignore him, opening her drawers and putting more of her things into the bad. When he deemed his collection of clothing sufficient enough to last her a while, he moved out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. Roy continued to follow.

"You know, when Pam gets home, she is not going to be happy that you took all her stuff." Jim opened the cabinet and grabbed some of her toiletries, throwing them on top of the bulging bag. "Now, I know you have this obsession with her but she's my wife, not yours."

Jim zipped up the bag with alarming force and turned around to look at Roy. Roy saw the look in his eyes and backed up a step.

"She isn't your wife Roy! She is your fiancée and resident punching bag. And she isn't coming back to you. Ever."

"What do you-"

"How could you do this to her?" Jim was yelling now, letting all the anger go. Roy was just staring with wide eyes. "How could you break her like this? She is never anything but sweet and kind and warm. You hurt her. You ruined her. She is never going to come back from this fully!"

"Wha-"

"You are an arrogant, self centered, sorry excuse for a man. How she ever loved someone like you is beyond me. You don't deserve her. You never did. And she didn't deserve what you did to her."

And with that he pushed past Roy and went down the steps.

Roy yelled from his place at the top. "You can't keep her away from me."

Jim stood stock still, keeping his back to Roy. "I swear to God Roy," He spoke with a surprising amount of calm but the anger was definitely there. "If you come near her ever again, the cops will be the least of your worries. And rest assured, I will call the cops."

He didn't wait for a reply. He just readjusted the bag on his shoulder and moved out the door to the driveway. Once at his car, he slung the bag off his shoulder and threw it in the backseat. He barely noticed that he left the front door open. It seemed too juvenile and cliché to slam it shut after him.

He got in the drivers seat and sat for a moment, willing himself to calm down. He could feel his entire body shaking with anger, pulsing everywhere. He notice slightly that the front door closed after him. He was somewhat relieved that Roy hadn't followed and tried to stop him. Too drunk to fight.

He heaved another sigh and pulled the car out of the driveway, not really caring when he hit the mailbox, causing the metal container to fall to the ground in a clangor. Still, he couldn't help the small smile that came over his face.

So much for not acting juvenile.


	3. Chapter 3

I highly suggest everyone listens to **Can't Be Held Responsible** by **The Wallflowers**. Amazing band. Amazing song that kind of pertains to this story. I have been listening to it like crazy.

And I want to thank the people who review. I know this is a very different story and hard to read because of material but its called fan**fiction** for a reason. It's going to be different. And I plan on following through with this story until it's done. Okay?

--

"What's in the bag?" Pam passed him at the doorway as she came down the stairs out of her shower. She was wearing a pair of his sweats that were way too big on her and an old t-shirt she had dug out of his closet.

He raised an eyebrow at her appearance. "That's an interesting look."

She rolled her eyes but he still noticed the blush that crept up her cheeks. "Well, it's all I have until we go back to my house."

He noticed she still used the word my.

She plopped down on the couch and brought her knees up to her chest protectively. She eyed the bag he had clenched in his hands again. "What's in the bag? Are we going camping?"

He smiled slightly and brought the bag over to her, dropping it on her lap. She let out a breath with its weight.

"Jesus. What is it?"

"Your stuff."

He fell into the couch next to her, putting his legs up on the coffee table.

"My stuff?" Pam started, confused. She unzipped the bag and looked inside, a dazed expression on her face.

"I thought you said you were going to the grocery store." She stated quietly, her voice a whisper.

Suddenly he felt embarrassed and upset, like he had done something wrong. Like he had broken some promise by going over there by himself.

"I just thought-"

"Thought what?" She interrupted him harshly. She looked up to meet his face and he saw anger flash. He sank back in the couch.

"I just thought it might be easier if I go to your house by myself. I figured you didn't need to be there."

"Was-" She lost eye contact and looked at the floor, twisting the zipper between her index finger and thumb. "Was Roy there?"

"No." He said it immediately, not giving any thought to the question. She looked up at him.

"Jim, seriously, don't you think I can tell by now when someone is lying to me, especially you."

He heaved a sigh and looked away. "Yeah, Roy was there."

"How was he?"

"Is that a serious question?" He asked incredulously. How could she possibly care what he was like? He had just spent the past year physically and emotionally berating her. He had beaten her down until there was almost nothing left. And here she was, asking how he was.

"I asked it, didn't I?" She was still looking intently at the zipper, gliding it back and forth gently.

"Pam, are you mad at me for going over there?"

She let go of the zipper and heaved a sigh, putting her hand to her forehead. "No, I'm not mad. Just a little surprised is all. I figured we would go together."

" Is-" He hesitated slightly. "Do you think it's best for you to go over there?"

"It's my house, isn't it?" She looked up at him and he saw her eyes glistening with moisture. "I mean I've been living there ten years now. Just because there are bad memories doesn't mean it isn't my house. Every house has bad memories."

She was tired of crying, so tired of crying. She had been crying for too long now. So long that she almost forgot what it felt like to not cry. To not have the moisture on her cheeks and the searing pain in her chest. Her heart had been breaking steadily for a while now. It was never a simple, clean break. She couldn't mourn and move on. It was slow and devastating. It was killing her.

And he was watching her break in front of him. Watching her crumble into a small heap. And it was killing him.

"Pam-"

"No. That was my house. My things. All my things. My life." She looked at him with frantic eyes. "My life Jim!"

His eyes softened and he reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. She tensed at his touch and he removed his hand sheepishly. "Well, I got some of your things. If you want, we can go over later and get the rest. I'm sorry I went without telling you first."

She looked at him, wiping her tears away from her cheeks, still mindful of the bruise. "Okay." She opened her bag and looked inside. "Okay." She whispered again, calming herself.

He stopped looking at her and stood up, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it by the door, aiming for the hook. It fell to the ground in a pathetic heap with the rest of his long ago neglected clothing.

He left Pam on the couch, walking past her into the kitchen. His hands were shaking again and he clenched them tightly to stop them. He didn't know what to do,

She was still on the couch in the same position when he walked back in an hour later. She didn't even look up. She just continued to clutch the bag to her chest with her chin resting idly on top. She looked like a small girl clutching her teddy bear.

He coughed to get her attention and when she looked up at him, he gave her a tentative smile.

"Why don't we go put your stuff upstairs, in Mark's old room?" She looked at him curiously. "I think it might be better than the couch."

He held out his hand and she took it, letting him lead her up the stairs. The bag bounced off the stairs as she dragged it behind her.

He tried not to concentrate on their intertwined fingers. "Here you are."

She peered past him into the room and looked at it carefully. There was a medium sized bed in the middle of the room with the typical furniture surrounding it. There was a dresser on the far wall with a short nightstand next to the bed. She took a few steps in and dropped her bag on the bed.

"Do you want to unpack or just leave your stuff in the bag?"

"I'm fine."

His eyes lingered on her back. They squinted together as he studied her shoulders. There was something on the shirt she was wearing, at the top, between her shoulder blades. He took a step towards her.

"Pam, what's on your-" He stopped completely. Just froze. It was blood on the shirt. Blood from a cut, obviously, on her back. He had cut her? He hadn't just beaten her, he had cut her too. Were the bruises not enough? He felt the familiar spark that accompanied anger.

He reached out a hand and touched the area gently. She let out a sigh and slumped forward. The area of redness was growing slightly. Not big enough to cause any worry but still a fair amount of blood.

"You should put a band-aid or something on this."

She turned her head to the side slightly. "I've tried. I can't reach. The shower always reopens it. The bleeding will stop soon."

"How'd this one happen?"

"What?"

"How did he do this?"

"Oh." Her cheeks reddened and she moved away from him, turning around so he could no longer see the blood. "I fell."

"Come one Pam. Don't you think I can tell by now when you are lying to me?" He mimicked her words from earlier back to her. She smiled slightly, only slightly.

"I did fall. After he hit me, I fell back into the dresser. The corner hit me in the back. I'm fine Jim."

"Let me put a band-aid on it at least?" He pleaded. "You're getting one of my favorite shirts all bloodied." He smiled to show he was kidding and she tilted her head to the side and gave him a terse smile.

"Alright."

He nodded and backed out of the room, grabbing another washcloth and bandages from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. He came back in to find her sitting on the edge of the bed with her legs folded under her.

She turned around when she saw him enter so that her back faced him. He swallowed hard.

"You're gonna have to lift up your shirt."

"I know." She said quietly. She then let out a sigh and tugged at the hem of her shirt, steadily bunching it up towards her shoulders.

In any other circumstance, Pam taking off her shirt on his roommates bed would be fulfilling one of his many fantasies but now all he could do was watch in sadness and horror as skin covered in bruises was steadily exposed. She held the shirt just above where the cut was but he was too mesmerized by the broken skin to do anything about it.

"Pam-" He started quietly and reached out a shaky hand to gently touch one of the bruises. "I'm so sorry." He traced the yellow and blue ribbons of skin carefully down her back and she let out a shaky sigh. She was so close to crying again. She blinked hard.

"Can you just put the band-aid on please?"

He blinked and tore his eyes away from her lower back and up to the top where the cut was. It wasn't very large, and was in the process of healing, but the warmth of the shower softened her skin and allowed the cut to reopen.

He wiped away the blood and put on the bad aid, fully covering the cut. He removed his hands from her back and she let her shirt drop to cover the wounded area. She turned to him.

"Thanks."

He smiled. "No problem."

It was strange to him, that in the course of a day, their friendship had morphed into an incredibly strange relationship where he covered the wounds her fiancée had inflicted upon her. It was a relationship he couldn't quite name. One he wasn't sure yet would be beneficial to both parties. But right now she needed someone, she needed him. She had come to his door hadn't she?

So, for right now, he would help her as much as necessary. He would be there to make her smile every time those tears threatened to spill. He would keep her mind off all things Roy. He would try and rebuild her world to what it was when he first met her, maybe even a little better. Maybe he could even encourage her to begin to paint again.

But today he would take it slow. Make her dinner, make her laugh, make sure she got some sleep.

Yeah, for right now, he would protect her against anything. Like that was ever questioned in the first place.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry this update is coming a little late. I was a camp counselor all week and AP work for school is calling my name. Also, I changed the title to Can't Be Held Responsible because I never really liked the Sick Day title. I hope everyone is cool with that. If not, well, I apologize.

Oh, and I tried to make this extra long. I wrote this several times and I am still not happy with it. I don't know. Some big things happening in the next few chapters.

--

Jim was lounging on the couch in his pajamas when Pam came shuffling down the stairs. He had a bowl of cereal in his lap and his eyes were glued to the television. She paused and gave him a look.

"Cartoons?"

"Sunday morning classic." He stated stoically. "There's cereal and coffee on the counter for you."

She smiled through a yawn at his antics and walked into the kitchen where, sure enough, a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee were sitting. She grabbed them and moved back into the family room where Jim had moved his legs so she could sit. She tucked her legs underneath her and balanced the bowl in her lap.

"You sleep alright?" He asked it as he shoved another spoonful of cereal in his mouth, so the last word was a little muffled.

"Yeah, yeah. I slept great. Thanks." She tore her eyes away from his face to the television screen where a coyote was attempting to attach himself to an Acme rocket. She laughed as he failed and went tumbling down a cliff.

Jim turned his head slightly at the sound of her laughter and observed her face. It was nice to see that happy glint in her eye, even if it was only for a second.

"I have an idea." He stated quietly as he turned his head back to the screen.

"Hm?"

"Let's not go to work tomorrow."

He felt her gaze on him as he took another bite of cereal. The crunching of the sugar flakes and the sound of a roadrunner were the only noises in the room.

She didn't answer and he continued nervously. "I mean, we can just hang out here and watch old movies all day. Or we could go to the zoo and make fun of those weird birds that look like they have herpes. Or we could go-"

"Jim." She cut him off quietly. "I think we should go to work. I've used more than my allotted sick days and so have you."

"Do you really think that's the best idea?" He turned in the cushions to face her. "I mean, your face-" He gestured towards her with his hands. She blushed. He sighed.

"I just mean-" He softened his voice. "Do you need more time?"

She met his eyes hesitantly and was overwhelmed with the concern mirrored there. She tried to smile but it came out more as a forced grimace. "I would love to have more time, really. This isn't something I am going to just get over. But for right now, I want things to be normal. I just want to go to work and answer the phones for a bit, make fun of Dwight, and forget."

She looked down at her bowl and poked at the lonely bits floating around in the white sea. "I just want to forget."

He watched helplessly as the tears dropped into her bowl. He didn't know how to do this, how to protect her. It seemed to be the only thought running through his head the past three days. How do you handle something like this? He never was the hero. Ever. He was the guy in the background, stumbling over boxes and providing comic relief. He was the guy you fall back on when the hero gets sick or when the hero gets hurt. And even then he didn't know what to do. All he ever did was stand there uselessly, desperately trying to make everyone smile.

And that barely ever worked.

How do you be the hero?

How do you sweep in and save the girl?

Pam sighed and wiped a shaky hand under her eyes. She looked up at Jim and blushed slightly.

"I'm sorry. I just can't help it sometimes."

He raised his eyebrows. "Don't apologize Pam. You don't ever have to apologize for something like that."

She nodded and whispered an okay while he grabbed their bowls and moved them into the kitchen sink. A small pile was building up but that wasn't unusual. He usually went for as long as possible without washing the dishes. Until he didn't have a bowl for his mac and cheese or a spoon for the galloon of cookies and cream in the freezer.

He observed her on the couch, giggling along with the television. He sighed and walked back in. It was going to be a long week.

--

He woke up to the sounds of the shower running. He blinked his eyes up at the ceiling, trying to clear away the sleep. His head felt like a million pounds and every time he opened and closed his eyes, it felt like ten more pounds were added. He never was a morning person.

The shower shut off and he heard the door open to the bathroom. A second later, she was at his door, clad only in a towel. His eyes lingered a little too long on her dripping body. He swallowed hard and turned his head back to the ceiling.

"I'm done. You can get in."

He kept his eyes trained on the cracking plaster. "Okay. Thanks."

She stood for another second before shuffling into her room and shutting the door. He let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding and stood up from the bed, stretching above his head and listening to his body let out creaks of exasperation.

He shut the bathroom door behind him and slipped into the shower, turning the nozzle to the right. The cold water cascaded over his body, shocking him awake. He sighed and turned the nozzle to the left so that the ice cold water was replaced by the comfort of warmth.

He noticed the small bottle of shampoo placed in the right hand corner next to his larger bottle. It was a visual representation of the way Pam was edging into his life. He didn't mind, definitely not. That wasn't the case at all. He was more than happy to help her out when she needed him. He was perfectly fine with being her support for a while.

He could keep a level head about this. He could keep his mind on her well being and not, well, other things. The fact that she was sleeping one bedroom away every night and taking showers in her bathroom every morning was nothing. They were friends. That was all.

He repeated this mantra in his head several times as he washed his hair and shut off the water. He climbed out of the shower and grabbed the nearest towel, wrapping it around his waste.

He realized groggily that he left his clothes in his bedroom. He never was a morning person.

Expecting to quickly dart in his room, he swung open the door. He did not expect to see Pam there, dressed and ready to go. She jumped slightly at his sudden appearance and her eyes widened when she saw he was only wearing a towel.

"Oh!" She turned and covered her eyes like a small child playing hide and seek. Jim felt his face go red and he muttered a quick apology before shuffling into his room and leaving Pam in the hallway, hands still over her eyes.

When she heard the door close, she let her hands slip away from her face and sighed. She looked at his door with an eyebrow raised and smiled slightly. There was a feeling stirring around in her stomach that she vaguely recognized. She shut her eyes tightly.

She was just leaning on him for support for a while, until she was better, until she got back on her feet. They were friends. That was all.

She repeated this mantra in her head as she walked down the steps, letting her hand skim the top of the banister. She gathered her purse and took a seat next to the door. A few minutes later she heard Jim thundering down the steps. She watched with amusement glinting in her eyes as he stumbled down the last few, trying to get his tie on.

"We're late." She said smiling.

He gave her a mock glare as he gave up on his tie and attempted to put on his shoes. "I know."

He hopped on one shoed foot and tried to put on the other. He looked up at Pam. "Can you grab the keys? They are on the counter there."

She nodded and let out another smile as he almost fell into the wall, unbalanced. She took the keys off the counter top and walked over to the door where he was shrugging on his coat.

"You good now?" She couldn't hold back the smile that escaped her lips.

He rolled his eyes and smiled at her. "Yeah. Just the tie." He held the maroon tie in front of her face and swung it back and forth. "But I can get that later."

"Later when?"

He opened the front door for her and followed her out to his car.

"When I'm driving. I'll have you know that I am a very good one handed driver and tie putter on-er." He finished awkwardly. She laughed as she slid into the passenger seat.

"Come here." He turned in his seat to face her as she wrapped the fabric around his neck and began to tie. She had to stretch to reach all the way around. Their faces were close. So close that he could smell the shampoo she had used earlier and she could feel his breath on her neck.

His heart began to beat faster and he was pretty sure it was so loud she could hear it. She tightened the knot and smoothed it down with the palm of her hand. She let it linger on his chest. He let his eyes close at her touch.

His heart was beating fast; she could feel it through his shirt, through his skin. She was pretty sure hers was beating just as fast. When she realized her hand was still on his chest, she removed it quickly and turned back in her seat, looking out the front window.

Jim opened his eyes, feeling his face radiating heat and turned back in his seat. "You should see my driving without the tie putting on. I am amazing."

The awkwardness passed and she felt herself smile again. She flipped down the visor and looked at her reflection in the mirror, turning her head to the side to see the bruise. She had avoided looking at it the entire weekend. Every time she did, she got the queasy feeling in her stomach and the tears would build up. But this time, she took a deep breath before she opened her eyes.

The skin was healing but it was still obvious and ugly. It was purple and blue around the edges while the inner area was turning a sickly shade of yellow. The swelling had gone down enough so that she could blink her eye again but it was still abnormally raised. She heaved a sigh and touched it gently.

Jim observed her out of the corner of his eye. "It looks fine."

She stopped touching her face and flipped up the visor again. She slouched back in the seat.

"It does not."

He let out a small humorless chuckle. "Well, you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

They pulled into the parking lot in Jim's usual spot. Pam glanced nervously at Roy's truck parked on the far side. Jim noticed and put a comforting hand on her back on the way into the building.

The first day was always the hardest, that's what they always said. Just get past today, and everything else would run smooth. Everything would be okay if she just made it past today.

She sat down behind reception, grateful that no one seemed to notice that her and Jim came in together. She didn't feel like dragging Jim into the rumor mill with her today.

"Ouch, Pammy, what happened there?"

Pam looked up from the phone to see Michael staring at her. She had prepared for this moment, but even so, her face revealed a bright shade of red.

"Oh, it's nothing." She could feel Jim's gaze on her as well. "Me and Roy were at my Aunts house and one of my nephews threw the baseball with a little too much gumption."

She forced a fake smile and immediately looked back down at her papers. Michael didn't leave.

"Gotta watch out for those little buggers. You have to admit, when a child one third your age can put a whammy on you, you must be in horrible shape."

Pam ignored the comment and when Michael discovered he wasn't going to get any laughs from her today, he shuffled into his office. Pam looked up to give Jim an exasperated sigh but he was already looking away. She felt a small tinge of disappointment but continued about her work.

The entire day passed in a blur. Every time the door opened and someone stepped into the office, a feeling of pure fear would rush through her and then complete relief when it wasn't Roy.

She didn't know what she feared. Was it her hurting her again? No, she got over that fear a long time ago. It was no longer a surprise and therefore expected. Was it him hurting Jim? That was part of it. She hated that she had brought Jim into this at all. He was her best friend and she couldn't help but feel she was taken advantage of him and she would just be heartbroken if he suffered because of her.

But there was something else in her that was causing her to be afraid. It was unnamable and anonymous. She couldn't figure it out and it was killing her.

Jim walked over to her desk at the end of the day and popped a jellybean in his mouth. "You ready to go?"

She looked up, shaking herself out of her thoughts. "Yeah." She gave him a small smile. "Let's go."

They walked out to the parking lot and climbed into his car once again, this time Pam resting her head against the coolness of the window. Jim didn't look over at her once. She turned her head to face him and could barely make out his outline with the aid of the light from the radio.

"Are you mad at me?"

He glanced over at her quickly before turning back to the road.

"No, why would you say that?"

She faced the road as well, wrapping her arms around her body and squirming further down in her chair. "I don't know. It's just, you hardly came over to my desk at all today."

"I'm not mad." He stated simply. She nodded, believing there was more to the statement than he was saying.

"I'm just-" He let his sentence dangle in the air as he searched for a word. "Confused. Why did you make up that excuse?"

"I'm not going to tell Michael that Roy abuses me."

"I understand that but why do you defend him?"

"Who, Roy? I am not defending Roy." She could feel anger and defiance coursing through her body. She shouldn't be mad at Jim, she knew that. But she wanted to be mad at someone and it was only the two of them in the car right now.

"I just-" She paused, taking a deep breath. "I just want things to go back to normal. I make up an excuse. Michael goes away. He forgets about my eye. My eye heals. Everything is normal."

"But Pam-"

"Jim." She closed her eyes again and rested her head against the cold window. "Can we please just do this later? Please?"

Her voice was tired and he heaved a sigh, tightening his hands on the steering wheel. He wasn't trying to press the issue, really, he wasn't. But he figured once it was all out, she would be able to heal. Once everything had been said, maybe she could start to get better. This keeping stuff locked away inside wasn't doing anyone any good.  
"Yeah, later."


	5. Chapter 5

It had been a two weeks. Fourteen days, six hours, and forty-two minutes since she first showed up on his doorstep. They had fallen into a quiet comfortable pattern. She had discovered that he runs late almost every morning so she keeps the keys in her jacket. He had learned that she doesn't drink decaf, so he kept normal coffee in the cabinet next to his. She couldn't sleep one night so he made her hot chocolate and put in her favorite movie. She fell asleep in his lap and he carried her up to bed. She had never felt more at home anywhere.

"Jim." She walked into his room while he was buttoning his shirt behind his closet door. "I'm out of stuff."

"What do you mean?" He poked his head around the door so he could get a clear shot.

"I'm out of clothes. I think I need my other things." She was awkward on the subject, looking down at her feet and wringing her hands.

He stepped out from behind the door and walked over to her. "Want to go after work?"

She looked up at him. "Are you sure this is okay? Me staying with you for so long?"

He smiled and gently grasped her shoulders. "Of course Beesley. We'll grab the rest of your stuff after work than come home and order pizza."

"Vocellis?" She pouted her lip like a six year old and he rolled her eyes, letting go of her shoulders.

"Where else?"

She smiled and turned out of his room. "Oh, I'm driving today."

Jim groaned behind her. "Ugh, but you go so slow. I'm driving."

She turned to face him. "Funny, it seems I have the keys." She dug into her pocket and took out the keys, dangling them in front of his face. When he reached for them she put them up a little higher.

"Can I please have the keys?"

She dropped her arm and pulled the keys closer to her chest. "No, I'm driving."

"Pam, give me the keys." He held out his hand expectantly.

"Pam, give me the keys." She mocked him, dropping her voice so it sounded much lower.

He sighed and pretended to give up when she thrusted her hand in the air jubilantly. He took advantage and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder.

She let out a surprised squeal. "Jim! Put me down." She couldn't help the giggles the came pouring out. "Jim, seriously! You're wrinkling my shirt."

She heard him laugh as they walked out the front door. He walked to the car and put her in the passenger seat. As he was walking around to get into the driver's seat, she scrambled over the center console and locked the door, sitting down in his seat.

He gave her an exasperated look through the window. She smiled and reached for the keys that were in her pocket but was surprised to find them missing. She looked at him through the window.

He smiled and reached into his own pocket, dangling the keys in front of the window. She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. He opened the door.

"Please move."

"I don't want to."

"We are going to be late."

"Not if you let me drive."

He gave her a look as if he were seriously considering it and then reached into the car and took her from underneath her knees and back. The position was awkward and she squirmed causing Jim to lose his balance and the both of them to fall into a heap on the cement.

She let out a loud laugh from on top of him as he winced in pain.

"Oh, my back." He groaned.

"Oh, poor baby." She laughed again and he squinted open his eyes. Her laughing died down and she looked at him. Their faces were no more than an inch away. He had the most incredible green eyes. She never really looked at them before. The green was flecked with gold in the center.

Her heart began to beat faster as her eyes dropped from his eyes to his lips. He closed the inch gap and brushed his lips against hers softly. She let out a content sigh, keeping her eyes closed. He lingered there for a second, his mouth below hers, just waiting. When he began to pull away, she put a hand on his cheek, keeping his where he was. This time she closed the gap and brought her lips to his.

He was gentle, soft. His hand rested on her waist carefully as hers continued to rest on his cheek. She pulled away, eyes still shut.

"We're going to be late." She whispered.

"You're still on top of me." He whispered back.

She laughed again and crawled off of him, untangling their limbs and holding out her hands to help him up. He winced again and held out the keys.

"Here, I give up."

She took the keys with a smile and slid into the car as Jim limped over to his side and fell into his seat.

They got to work with minimal groans of impatience from Jim and walked into the building.

"It's all your fault." He muttered in the elevator.

"What is?" She asked innocently.

"The searing pain coursing through my body."

"If you just gave up the keys like a good boy-"

"If you just went five miles above the speed limit-"

"Speed limit Jim, not speed guidelines."

He rolled his eyes and she smiled as the elevator door opened. They took their places at their desks and went about their daily activities. Jim only made several derogatory comments to Dwight. But when Pam announced that his back was bothering him, Dwight went into a ten-minute speech about back problems and how to stop the pain.

Jim glared at Pam from his desk. She just shrugged.

Around noon, Jim stood up and walked over to her desk, taking a handful of jellybeans and tossing them all in his mouth. Pam mock gasped.

"Hey, take it easy. You just ate half a weeks jelly bean stash in one mouthful."

"Consider it payment for my health care. I hear jellies have remarkable healing powers."

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh, do you now?"

He smiled. "Oh yeah, especially the green ones."

"The green ones, huh?"

"Definitely. I think you should get more."

"So this has nothing to do with the fact that you always eat all the green ones first and they are your favorite?"

"Why no Pam, I am surprised you would say such a thing. Doubting my motives." He shook his head in disappointment and she laughed again. He leaned down on the desk on his forearms.

"In all seriousness, I am starving. Want to grab lunch?"

"You mean go the ten feet to the break room?"

"And grab our lunches? Yes. That is exactly what I mean."

She smiled and stood up. "Okay. I am quite famished myself."

He smiled and followed her to the break room. "Huh. Famished. Good word there Pam."

They took their lunches out of the fridge and sat down at one of the tables.

"I think we should talk." He began seriously.

"About what?" She asked, bagel in her mouth.

He looked down, uncomfortable. "About this morning. On the driveway."

"Oh." She stated.

"Yeah."

"Jim-" She stopped halfway through her sentence and Jim looked up to see her bagel frozen halfway to her mouth.

"Pam?"

He turned around to see what she was looking at and saw Roy standing in the doorway looking at the pair of them.

"Pam, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Jim looked at Pam who still wasn't answering to Roy who was standing awkwardly at the door. "Uh, I'm not so sure that-"

"Not your problem Jim." Roy cut him off swiftly.

"Not my problem?" He asked with disbelief. He could feel his blood rising. "You beating up my best friend isn't my problem?"

Roy looked around to make sure no one noticed Jim speaking and shut the door behind him. "This is between Pam and me. Not you and me. I would like to talk to her in private please."

"I'm not leaving her anywhere with you."

"Well, guess what-"

"Jim." Pam finally spoke from her end of the table, putting her bagel down carefully on her napkin. "I'm fine. Just let him talk. I'll be out in a second."

"Pam-"

"Really, Jim, I'll be fine." He gave her another skeptical glance before standing up with his soda and walking out of the room.

Roy took his vacated seat as Pam began tracing the jelly from her bagel around with her fingernail. "What can I do for you Roy?"

"Come home Pam."

She looked up at him. "What?"

"Come home. I miss you. I miss us."

"Roy, I can't do that."

He reached forward to take her hands but she pulled them away. He ignored it.

"Pam, come on. I promise. Things will be different this time. I was stupid before. I shouldn't have had those drinks. You were right, I do go to too many bars. I promise, this time I am going to stop drinking. And I swear, I wont ever hurt you again. it was just me being stupid."

"Roy-"

"And I won't ever forget our anniversary or your birthday. I'll bring you breakfast in bed and make you dinner."

"You've never made me dinner."

"Hey, there's a first for everything right? I can change. I will change Pam. I love you."

He reached for her hands again but this time she let him take them. She looked at him with teary eyes.

"You promise me?" She wanted so badly for things to go back to normal. For everything to be like it was before he began to drink. For him to love her for her. For him to love her period. She just wanted to be loved.

He nodded and smiled, wiping away her tears with his thumb. "I promise. Come home?"

She looked at him and gave a small smile. "Okay. I'll come home."

--

She came to his apartment later that night. His car was in the driveway but she was surprised to see all the lights out. She took a shaky sigh before getting out of the car and walking to his door. The entire way, she could feel her heart in her throat.

She rang the doorbell and waited, her palms sweating and her heart throbbing. She could hear him shuffling behind the door before he swung it open. When he saw it was her, his eyes darkened.

"I didn't pack your things yet." He said it without emotion.

"I didn't come for them. I came to talk to you."

"There is nothing to say."

"Jim, just understand. I'm going to be fine. He said he was sorry."

"How many times has he said he was sorry Pam?" He said it quietly and with such anger that Pam actually took a step back. "How many times has he apologized?"

She felt herself grow angry. "You don't understand Jim. He loves me."

"Oh yeah." He chuckled, a dry humorless chuckle. "He loves you so much he punches you in the face."

"That was different. He was drunk."

"And he isn't going to get drunk again?" His eyes widened slightly to enunciate his point.

"He promised me he wouldn't. He promised me things would be different this time." She wanted Jim to understand. She was trying so hard to show him that she would be all right. That she was strong enough to take care of herself.

"Pam, are you listening to yourself? Seriously! How can you trust a thing that man says to you?" He was gesturing wildly with his hands. "He hits you Pam. He causes you physical pain. He breaks you down verbally. He holds you down. Why do you want that? Why do you keep going back to that?"

"You don't understand!" She shouted over him.

"What don't I understand? I understand he hits you! That's all I need to understand! What I don't understand is why you kiss me and go back to him!"

"I just want to be loved!" She said it before she even realized she though it.

"And you think he is the only one that does? That he is the best you can do?" His eyes softened and the anger melted into sorrow. "Pam, what if he doesn't just hit you next time? What if-" He swallowed and looked down. "What if it gets worse?"

"It won't."

"But if it does?"

"It won't." She said with determination.

He sighed and looked back up at her, running a hand through his hair. He hesitated slightly before he spoke again. "I called Jan today."

She looked up at him, confused. "Why?"

"I'm transferring to another office. I can't-"He looked down at the floor. "I can't do this."

"Do what Jim? I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me any more. I'm okay. Everything is back to normal." She was speaking franticly and quickly, trying to put on a brave face.

"Maybe this isn't about you Pam. Maybe this is about me." He looked at her carefully, trying hard to not make this emotional. He was kidding himself. "Maybe this is about the fact that I can't come in and watch you be with him every day. Maybe this is about the fact that I can't save you if you don't save yourself. I can't watch you hurting Pam, it hurts me too much."

She was crying now, the tears falling down her cheeks. "But I'm okay Jim, everything is okay. You don't have to care anymore." She repeated in a sob.

"Pam, God, you don't understand!" She shut her eyes tight at his yelling. "When you kissed me this morning, I thought you would. I can't stop caring because I love you!"

She opened her eyes and he seemed surprised that he said it. His mouth was open slightly and his eyes were suddenly calm. He lowered his voice.

"I'll be in tomorrow to get my things."

And with that he shut the door, leaving her alone and crying on the worn welcome mat his mother had given him for Christmas.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I actually had this typed and ready to roll right after the last chapter. I went on a freakish writing spree and wrote three chapters at one time. But, I didn't have a chance to upload it until now because I was out of town for catering. Anyway, here it is. Severely angst ridden.

Rating: Take notice of the R rating as it is extremely evident in this chapter.

--

Pam was completely submerged underneath the covers, her legs curled into her chest and her chin resting upon her knees.

She was freezing cold and no matter how many blankets she piled on top of her frail form, she would always end up shivering. When she was little and would get a cold her mother would poke her nose and say, "You don't have a cold heart, do you Pammy? Because cold hearts make your entire body freeze."

An excited six-year-old version of her self would sit up in bed with her hands in her lap and ask, "Why mommy?"

Her mother would smile and sit next to her, taking her small hands in her long aged ones. "Because your heart," She patted her chest where her heart was for emphasis. "Is warm when you love somebody very very much. And it beats faster." She began to tap her hand rhythmically against her chest.

"Like mine does with Daddy." Pam would smile and her mother would grin right back. "But sometimes, when that love goes away, or when that love gets hurt, your heart gets cold. And the beating gets slower." Her hand stopped beating against her chest and she would drop it by her side. "And that is the worst feeling in the world."

Pam would then put her hand to her chest and look down at it. "My heart is beating normal. It did not freeze."

And her mom would look at her in mock surprise and say. "Than it is just a cold, nothing to worry about."

The thirty-year-old Pam clutched the blankets tighter around her and pushed the thought out of her mind. She didn't want to think right now. She just wanted to close her eyes and be calm.

Roy wasn't home when she had shown up last night. Probably for the better considering she was sobbing and didn't feel like answering questions. She had crawled into bed, still fully clothed, and immediately fell into a deep sleep.

She had woken up sometime before the sun had risen and found that she was still alone in her bed. She had gotten up and shuffled in the kitchen to make sure Roy hadn't passed out anywhere but he was nowhere to be found.

She wasn't surprised. She knew down in her heart that nothing would change. That nothing would be different. It would be the same as all the other times she had went back to him. He would promise her things about how he was going to change, about how their life would be better together. But every time, he would fail her. And she just didn't have the strength to get disappointed any more.

But she couldn't stop. She couldn't stop herself from looking into his eyes and saying yes every single time. Because every single time he promised her no alcohol and apologized for the bruises on her skin, she would believe him. She was convinced that he loved her somewhere in his heart. That his heart still beat for her the way hers used to when they first met.

And every single time it happened again, she would feel sick to her stomach because it was no ones fault but her own that she stuck around.

_**This isn't your fault. This was never your fault.**_

The words subconsciously came into her head without warning and she blinked back tears.

Jim. The single subject she had been mentally avoiding the entire night. She couldn't think about him now. She couldn't go into work today and see him at his desk, packing up his things. She couldn't look at him from across the room and not have him feel her gaze and look up, giving her that smile.

She had hurt him. She knew she did. And she had hurt herself in the process. She knew she felt things with Jim that she hadn't felt in years with Roy. The heart beating faster, just like her mom has described so many years ago.

And the heart freezing, just like her mom had described so many years ago.

**_I can't stop caring because I love you!_**

He loved her. He _loved_ her. Jim loved _her_.

And she was pretty sure she loved him back. What else was that feeling in her chest every time he walked by? What was that flutter in the bottom of her stomach when someone mentioned his name? What was that explosion in her mind when his lips brushed against hers? How come when they were alone, all she could think about was the fact that they were alone?

But she was stuck. Hopelessly stuck in this ridiculous relationship with a man who did nothing but hurt her. She wanted to leave, she did. But every time, Roy managed to convince her otherwise.

She squeezed her eyes shut and squirmed down further in the blankets. Her life was such a mess. She just wanted everything to be normal again.

She heard the door open and shut in her cocoon of warmth and her eyes snapped open. She listened with awkward breathing as Roy stumbled into the room. He stood for a second in silence then prodded her body underneath the covers.

"Playing hide and go seek baby?" His words were slurred and she knew without even smelling his breath that he was drunk.

"Why don't you come on out and give me a kiss?"

She didn't move, pretending to be asleep. Maybe he would get bored and just go away and pass out on the couch.

He pulled back the sheets that covered her in a flourish. She winced as the cold air hit her skin. He smiled down at her.

"Found you."

She looked up at his face from the bed for a split second before sitting up and tucking her legs under her. She was still in her winter jacket and her mascara had successfully run the length of her face.

He didn't notice.

He leaned down to give her a kiss but she pulled away from him. He looked up at her and smiled.

"Playing hard to get, huh?"

He leaned forward again, this time using his arm to bring her face to his. Her lips crashed against his haphazardly. He tasted like scotch and cigarettes.

Nothing like wintergreen and jellybeans.

She wiggled out of his grasp and rolled out of bed, landing with a smack on the floor. She got up on her knees and stood up shakily, using the nightstand for support. Roy watched with amusement from the bed.

"What is wrong with you? Why are you so clumsy?"

She brushed the hair out of her face and looked at him. He was lying in their bed supported by his elbows with a stupid smile on his face, shirt untucked and numerous stains all over it. She let out a sound of disgust.

"I can't do this."

He let his elbows drop and he fell with an exasperated sigh on his back. "This again? Honestly Pam, get a new bit. This one is getting a little old."

She ignored him. "I'm serious. I am not going to be your piece of ass when you get home. I want to be loved and you stopped making my heart beat a long time ago."

He sat up on the bed and turned towards her. She noticed with a slight pang of fear that a familiar glint was in his eye. She took one step back.

"Stopped beating?"

He stood up from the bed and walked over to wear she was. "Well, lets check that."

He reached for her wrist and even though she struggled, maintained a firm grip. He pulled her closer to him.

"Funny, I feel a pulse. And it's going pretty fast."

She looked him in the eye and took a deep breath. "Fear isn't love Roy."

His face contorted into one of rage and he pushed her against the wall. She it hit with a thud, knocking all the air out of her body and causing her to sink to the ground. She closed her eyes in pain.

"You ungrateful bitch!"

He pulled her up by her shoulders and pulled back a hand to smack her across the face. Before he could come in contact with her skin, she picked up her leg and kneed him in the groin.

He let out a grunt of pain and sunk to the ground. She looked down at him and put a hand to her mouth, stepping over him and grabbing her purse off the table before walking out the door.

"Pam! No one is ever going to love you! I am all you have!"

She slammed the door on the sound of his voice and shakily walked to her car. She could feel blood coming from the cut between her shoulder blades that must have reopened when she collided with the wall. Her knees were sore from her fall from the bed and her back was on fire.

She took a deep calming breath and put the car in reverse, knowing for a fact that she would never return to that house.

She could be strong, just this once.

She drove for a while, not really knowing where she was going. The thought of going to Jim's crossed her mind but she immediately rejected it. She couldn't depend on him after she had broken him like that. She didn't deserve to be loved by him. He was too great a man and she was a horrible, weak person. She couldn't expect him to drop his life again to catch her when she was falling.

There was a motel, right outside of Scranton, with a vacancy light flashing brightly in the beginning light of dawn. She pulled in and made her way to the check in desk.

An old man sat there, ancient with glasses almost the size of his face. He looked up when Pam walked in and his eyes widened slightly, giving him the appearance of a bug behind his magnified lenses.

"I'll need a room please." She dug around in her purse for her credit card. She barely noticed her hands shaking.

"Are you all right miss?"

She took the credit card form her purse and slid it across the counter to him, not meeting his eyes. "I just need a room."

He nodded and handed her a worn looking key and pointed to his left. "Just walk that way, the second to your right."

"Thank you." She whispered. She left the office and walked into the cool Pennsylvania air, wrapping her coat tighter around her body. She passed several other patrons on her way to her own room and all gave her sympathetic and somewhat confused stares.

Look at the broken girl, with messed up make up and a bruise on her face. I bet I know what kind of home she comes from.

She opened her door and shut it quietly behind her, making sure all three locks were in place. She didn't notice the stuck in the seventies wallpaper or the weird smell coming from the curtains. All she did was let her jacket drop by the foot of the bed as she climbed in to the much-welcomed sanctuary of the blankets.

She had only been lying there seven minutes and forty two seconds before she couldn't stem the tears any longer. She clutched the blankets close to her chest as she sobbed.

--

"What do you mean I can't leave?" Jim balanced a bag of groceries on his knee and his phone between his ear and shoulder as he searched his pockets for his keys.

Jan sighed on the other end of the phone. "I mean Jim, you can't transfer to another branch of the Dunder Mifflin offices. Scranton is barely getting by. We need every dedicated salesman we have there."

Jim let out a sigh. He barely considered himself dedicated. "But Jan-"

"No buts Jim. My decision is final. You stay where you are, or quit."

She hung up the phone, not giving him the chance to voice his opinion about the second option. He dropped the groceries on the kitchen counter and shuffled over to the couch.

He threw his body down face first on the couch. He didn't know how he was going to do this. He couldn't quit. He knew that. He needed this job to get by.

But Pam. He had no idea how he was going to continue working every day seeing her there, watching her. Seeing the bruises that appeared on her face, noticing with apprehension the winces of pain as she moved to pick up a dropped folder. Now that he knew, he couldn't ignore it. He couldn't block it out.

**_You don't have to worry about me anymore. I'm okay._**

Didn't she want him to care about her? Isn't that why she came to him in the first place?

He sighed and rolled over on his back on the couch. His eyes lingered on the familiar cracks again in the ceiling.

He squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself not to think of her. He didn't want to become the guy who pined over the girl he would never have. To be the guy she always fell back on. To be the guy who had no backbone because the second she blinked those round eyes up at him, he was gone.

He was going to be strong. He would pretend like nothing had happened. He would push his love for her away and ignore it until it just left. He would treat her as a colleague, nothing more, nothing less.

He was done being so caring.

If she didn't want him to be, he wouldn't.


	7. Chapter 7

Severe writers block is why this is coming so late. I had an idea of what I wanted to happen but I couldn't get it down. And then when I did, I hated it. I think I rewrote the beginning like seven times. Whatever. I still am not happy with it but here it is.

--

Jim was in the car twenty-seven minutes and forty-two seconds. He swerved off the road four times and spilled his coffee on his pants twice. He pushed away the feeling of guilt and hurt more than he could count. He pushed away the image of her crying even more.

He had told himself last night that he would stop caring. That he would be numb to her and feel absolutely nothing but that was seemingly harder than he expected. He thought of her even more. The way she looked when she smiled, when she cried. He envisioned the bruises on her back and the cut between her shoulder blades at the most inopportune moments and he could feel the well of emotion stirring in his stomach.

He almost pulled over ten minutes away from the Dunder Mifflin building for fear of throwing up. There had been a continual taste of bile in his throat since breakfast.

He pulled into the parking lot and saw that most of the spots were already taken. He tried to keep his eyes from wandering to the spot that Roy's truck usually occupied but he had no will power. The truck sat there, lonely and cold, with only a tree as company.

Jim heaved a sigh and climbed out of his car, willing his hands to stop shaking so much.

Thirty-six steps he took to the front door. Twenty-five seconds he spent exchanging pleasantries with the security guard. Two minutes in the elevator and four times he felt like he was going to throw up all over again. The doors opened and he felt a feeling of immense fear spread through him.

He looked down the hall and to the entrance of Dunder Mifflin with intense emotion in his eyes. He had half a mind to just press the one button with a star next to it and carry himself back home.

He took ten strides to the door and swung it open, plastering a look of contentment on his face.

It slid off when he saw Ryan sitting at Pam's desk.

He walked by it stoically and sat down at his own, plopping down his briefcase on the top of his desk. After several minutes of just sitting there, the stare of Dwight from his own desk got to Jim and he looked up.

"What?"

Dwight's eyebrows rose even higher on his head. "You are still wearing your jacket. If you are hiding any weapons within your pockets or layers of fabric, I assure you, it will be wise to not use them, I am a black belt."

Jim didn't answer with a snide comment. He didn't laugh at Dwight's ridiculous comment. He didn't raise his eyebrow in question. He just slipped off his jacket and let it slide to the floor in a heap by his feet before typing something into his computer and resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

Dwight looked from Jim to the coat then back to Jim with his mouth slightly agape, and then narrowed his eyes as if he were expecting a live animal to leap out of the folds of Jim clothing and attack him.

Jim didn't know what he was typing. Something about paper to some supplier, or customer, or warehouse, he couldn't remember. All he knew was that he was numbly typing numbers.

He heard a disturbance behind him and turned to see Dwight poking his discarded jacket with a ruler from the inside of his desk.

He rolled his eyes. "Dwight, what are you doing?"

"I'm checking your jacket for explosives."

"With a ruler?"

Dwight looked up at Jim then back at the jacket. Jim rolled his eyes again and leaned down in his chair to pick up his coat. Dwight immediately recoiled and pushed his chair back several feet, looking at Jim with wide eyes.

He stood up, jacket in hand, wiggled in front of Dwight's face, then turned around to hang it up on the coat rack. As he turned, he was greeted by Roy, standing no more than three feet away from him.

Jim stepped back slightly, muttering a curse under his breath at Roy's sudden appearance. He pushed past him without saying anything, making his way to the coat rack. Roy followed.

"Where is she?" He said quietly, anger coursing through the words.

Jim stood, his back still to Roy and his hands resting on the coat rack, confused. "Where is who?"

Jim turned around to look at him and was met with Roy bunching some of Jim's dress shirt in both hands and slamming his back against the wall, causing the coat rack to fall. The entire office went silent.

"I said, where is she you son of a bitch?" He yelled, his face becoming red and suddenly Jim realized what had happened. Pam had left Roy again. Only this time, he had actually noticed.

Jim vaguely heard Ryan calling security. He pulled himself out of Roy's grip. "I have no idea what you are talking about." He spat.

"I know you know where she is and you're going to tell me."

"Or what?" Jim said condescendingly, letting his anger get the best of him. The entire office was watching with wide eyes. Accounting had come up from the back and was watching carefully. Angela was blatantly observing from overtop her cubicle.

Roy swung and his fist collided with Jim's jaw. Jim stumbled but recovered, not losing his footing. He tasted blood in his mouth as he punched back. He hit Roy next to the eye and Roy crashed into the desk causing the jellybeans Pam had set up to go flying across the carpeting.

He used the desk to brace himself and gave Jim an incredulous look.

Jim gave a bitter smile. "What, you aren't used to someone punching back?"

Roy made to swing again but was interrupted halfway by Dwight jumping on his back. Jim watched with surprised and somewhat horrified eyes as Roy fell to the ground, Dwight on top of him.

Dwight held a struggling Roy down, his eyes wide while screaming, "I got him! I got him!"

Security rushed in and pulled Dwight off of Roy and Roy out of the room. An eerie silence was draped over the room. Jim put a hand up to his mouth and stemmed the bleeding. Dwight corrected his glasses. Michael took a step from his office doorway to where Jim was.

After another beat of silence, he proudly declared, "Let's hear it for Jimbo, taking out the warehouse man!"

He began to clap as Dwight glared at him. Michael let his hands drop to his side and coughed, retreating back to his office. Everyone soon followed, going about their activities, having enough excitement for one day. Dwight watched them retreat with worried eyes.

"Wait! Wait!" He rushed forward, turning Stanley around so that he was looking in his face. "You saw that, right? I was the one who saved Jim. I was the one who took out Roy who was crazed with anger."

Jim backed away quietly and took his coat off the hook, slipping out of the door. The last thing he heard before the elevators door closed was Dwight screaming, "It was I!"

--

Pam stood in front of the mirror quietly and extended a hand. She touched her reflection carefully, as if the mere hint of physical exertion would cause the glass to shatter and fall to the floor.

She let her hand drop to her side uselessly. She let her eyes trail off the mirror and to the wall where a small dent had been made. She thought back to last night when she had thrown her cell phone at it as hard as she could, watching as the plastic pieces spread over the room.

Roy had tried calling her three times last night. She had successfully slept through the first, ignored the second, and by the third call, been successively angered. Everything had built up in her chest and as she hurled the device at the wall, she felt slight liberation, as it broke apart.

Small steps, that was the key.

But as the anger died away, it was replaced with a cold loneliness and an emptying sadness.

So here she stood, the steam rising around her in the bathroom, staring at her broken reflection. Her hair dripped around her shoulders and was matted to her forehead. The cut between her shoulder blades throbbed in succession and the new bruise on her hip was tender to the touch.

She sighed and grabbed a towel off the shelf and wrapped it protectively around herself. She walked into the bedroom and shed the blanket, climbing back into her clothes from yesterday. She had turned up the heat in the room for the previous night, she couldn't stop shivering.

She climbed back under the covers, pulling them up to her chin and squeezing her eyes shut. She felt the moisture roll down her cheeks and bit her lip.

She rolled over on her back and twisted the frayed edge of her shirt where it had been ripped around her fingers. Behind her closed eyelids, she couldn't stop the image of Jim from floating up.

Him smiling. Him holding ice to her face, concerned. Him yelling, that broken look on his face when he had admitted his feelings.

She had broken him, and in turn herself.

She laughed cynically to herself in the empty room as she thought about the irony in the statement. Roy had spent years beating on her and she had never felt so broken as she did now.


	8. Chapter 8

There are two things I would like to apologize for. 1. The fact that this update is extremely late. I have excuses, just none you guys would care to hear. What can I say? School starts in three weeks. 2. The fact that I had a truly horrendous update up. I think it was up for maybe six hours, at the most. But then I deleted it because it was bad on so many levels. I reread it and it didn't even sound like me. Sorry if you read that. I should pay everyone who actually got through that. It was total crap. Ew. Okay, so here is the next installment, hopefully better than the last attempt.

--

He had called her mother. He had called every motel in the fine state of Pennsylvania. He had impersonated an officer so that he could get information on tenants. He had even considered calling Roy.

But judging by Roy's attempt to burrow through Jim's face with his fist, Roy's only lead was Jim.

And Jim had no idea.

His hands had shaken the first hour he had been on the road. He had held tighter to the wheel and turned up the radio, trying to wipe all thoughts from his mind. He still couldn't help the occasional image of her that drifted in front of his drooping eyes.

Her laughing. Her in his too big t-shirt. Her crying into her hands. The bruises that spread across her body like a disease.

He had no idea how long he had been driving. All he knew was that his knees ached, his wrists were cramped, and he had a massive headache from the morons at the motels he had been on the phone with all day.

"Yes, we have a young lady here that fits your description." One motel owner had said. Jim's chest had expanded with hope.

"Her name is Jessica Lambert." And just as quickly, the hope had crashed down into bitter disappointment.

Road signs passed in a blur and the bright daylight soon turned into a purple twilight. Jim yawned and pulled over to the side of the road where an abandoned church sat, old and deteriorating. He pulled into the parking lot, swerving around the piles of leaves that had collected over the months of neglect. The corner was dark and shielded as he pulled into the small space and hid most of his car from the road.

He pulled out his cell phone and held it to his ear, dialing the number his fingers had memorized hours ago. There was a buzz and then her voice causing his stomach to flop. It was the fifty-second time that day he had gotten her voice mail.

And it was the fiftieth time he had left a desperate message, his voice cracking.

"Pam, please. Call me. I don't know where you are. I just need to know you are alright."

Earlier in the day he had been so intent on ignoring his feelings and going back to normal. He had been intent on cutting her out of his life completely.

And now he was driving all over the state trying to find her when she didn't want to be found.

He pulled the keys out of the ignition and sat uselessly in the car, staring at the birds sitting atop the old church. There was one at the edge of the roof, off to itself, that the others would fly over and peck at. The bird would do nothing until finally, after several offending gestures by the other creatures, it turned, let out a squawk, and flew to another tree, higher up than the others.

Jim followed it carefully with his sleep-ridden eyes and suppressed a grin. The bird possessed some sort of symbolism to his current situation, he just couldn't place it.

Figures.

He put the keys back in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot, feeling slightly more awake after the minimal rest. The road was empty with only a few buildings dotted along the road. He passed several motels and habitually checked their parking lots for the familiar truck.

The third one he passed, he saw it.

He slammed on his brakes.

He heard vaguely heard the squeal of tires and a horn honking behind him. He pulled into the parking lot and stumbled out of his car and into the check in office. The elderly man looked up with startled eyes as the bell almost jingled right off the hook.

He took one look at Jim's state and narrowed his eyes behind his over sized lenses. "Sorry young man, we don't allow those who do drugs to conduct their business in our establishment."

Jim could have laughed but he figured that wouldn't help his situation. He instead rubbed his bloodshot eyes and straightened his spine, adopting a more professional posture. He cleared his throat.

"I don't do drugs. I promise you that. I am actually looking for someone-"

The man didn't look convinced. Jim took a step towards the desk.

"Please, she might be hurt. I don't know what her current condition is. It's just-"

He was getting nowhere with this old man. He began to gesture with his hands. "It's just she is my best friend and she is engaged to this total jerk who I just found out was abusing her. And I have been in love with her for as long as I can remember and when she showed up at my door, crying and broken, I took her in and I thought I could keep my feelings in check. I thought I would be able to help her. Save her, you know? But then I went and did something incredibly stupid. I kissed her and that day she went back to that son of a bitch who beat on her. Why, I don't know. But I came into work today-" He paused. "Oh yeah, I didn't tell you, I work with her. I came into work today and I told myself that I wouldn't care. That I would just block everything out. Not a good plan, but a plan nonetheless. Anyway, I walk in and she's not there. But her fiancée shows up and punches me in the face and asks me where she is. And I don't know. So now I am looking for her and I have been driving for hours. And I had to stop at some old church to rest because I haven't been able to stop my hands from shaking and I drove by here and I saw a truck. Her truck. So I stopped and please, if she is here, please, please, just tell me."

The man looked at Jim with wide eyes and mouth agape. If he wasn't convinced Jim was on drugs before, he was one hundred percent sure now.

But there was something in the young mans face, the complete and total desperation. The look in his eyes when he said he had ruined everything. The pure anger when he brought up the girl's fiancée.

There was something there that caused the man to say, "The second door to your right."

Jim could have fainted with relief. He gave the man an incoherent thank you and smiled slightly.

He shuffled down the hallway and knocked carefully on the appropriate door. When no one answered, he knocked again, slightly more assertive. He heard shuffling and soon the door swung open, revealing Pam.

Her hair was mussed up and her eyes held bags and when she saw who was at her doorstep, her eyes widened and she took a step back.

She then relaxed and gave him a defeated look, her bottom lip quivering. He felt his heart break.

"How can you always find me?" Her voice was tired and strained. "How can you always do that?"

He took the step forward that separated them and wrapped his arms around her tightly. She relaxed in them and clutched back, craving the warmth of comfort to battle the biting coldness of fear and guilt.

He held her tight in the open doorway, running his hand through her hair, getting out the knots and smoothing down the wild curls.

"Why am I so stupid?" She asked into his chest. He didn't answer. He couldn't.

He kissed the crown of her head and pulled away. She looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. He took her hands in his, looking down at them. His were large and encircled her small pale ones. He felt like he was holding the hands of a small porcelain doll that might break if too much pressure was administered.

"You're freezing." He whispered carefully. He looked up to meet her eyes again. Hers darted away to a spot somewhere behind his head. He dropped her left hand and took her right, leading her over to the bed.

She crawled in without question and he tucked her in carefully. He was about to lie down on the floor when she tugged on his hand hesitantly. She scooted over in bed, making room for him.

"Pam-"

"Jim, please, just-"

"I can't."

She drops her hand from his, the coldness of rejection biting at her. But she understands, somehow. He turns his head away and looks down at the carpet, his hands balancing carefully in his lap.

"I'm sorry." She whispers through the quiet room. "I'm sorry I keep making you have to save me. I'm sorry I cant save myself." She is blinking back tears now but he is still staring at the carpet, shoulders tense. "I'm sorry that you love me. I'm such a horrible person to love."

He looks up at this and she can just vaguely make out his outline in the dark room. She feels his warm hands on hers again. "I'm not. Pam, I'm not sorry I love you."

She sniffles and wipes her eyes with her free hand. "Jim. I can't. I do but I can't, not yet. It is going to take-"

He nods and turns away again. "I understand. I can wait."

And even though his voice is somewhat diminished and he isn't looking at her, his hand is warm on hers. And she feels safe. And the coldness is starting to subside from her body.

He barely hears, as she is drifting off to sleep, both of her small hands clutching his tightly, her as she says, "I'm going to get better now."

And even though they are in a cruddy hotel room and her body is bruised and broken, she is holding his hand. And she isn't so cold any more. And he finally feels that part of his heart that he hasn't felt in days.

--


	9. Chapter 9

This is the last chapter I do believe. Thanks for sticking with me and being patient (serious amount of patience with me, sorry guys) and giving a really out there story a chance. Special special thanks to those who reviewed consistently. They really helped. I love hearing what you guys have to say. I look forward to writing many more Office fics.

--

EPILOGUE

She traced her finger back and forth against the windowsill, her chin resting in her palm and her forehead barely touching the cold glass that lead to the exterior. She jumped slightly when her mom took a seat next to her.

Her mom gave her an apologetic smile and put a hand on her back comfortingly. "I didn't know you were awake."

Pam sighed and leaned back from the window, rubbing her hands together for warmth. "I just woke up a few minutes ago. I wanted to look outside. It looks like snow."

She turned her attention back to the window and cast her eyes upward, searching the gray sky for signs of falling flakes. Her mom watched her carefully, her kind eyes searching her daughter's face. She reached forward and tucked a piece of her curly hair behind her ear.

When Pam had showed up on her doorstep, Jim by her side protectively, tears had immediately sprung to her eyes. Her daughter looked horrible. She was thin, pale, and bruised. Pam was broken. And she had no idea.

Pam had walked up the stairs to her room without a word, leaving Jim in the hallway with her. Jim looked after Pam anxiously and then turned his attention back to her.

"Ms. Beesley-"

"What happened to my daughter?"

Jim had sighed and led her carefully to the table where he sat her down and explained everything to her, his own voice breaking when he came to the part about the abuse. She had been horrified, absolutely horrified, that all of this had been going on under her nose. That her daughter was being beaten by this horrible man. This man she had allowed into her home. This man she had mistakenly trusted with her daughter.

But she had also felt an overwhelming amount of thankfulness that Jim had been there to catch her. That Jim had kept her safe and gotten her out of there the second he knew. That Jim loved her daughter. She could never thank him enough for that.

And now her daughter was still broken, searching the skies for signs of little pieces of hope, falling freely from the sky.

"Pam-"

Pam sighed at her mother's tone and pulled away, wrapping the comforter closer around her body.

"Mom." She stated as a warning.

"Pam." Her mother stated with just as much intensity. "We are talking about this. Now look at me. Now."

Pam opened her eyes and faced her mother, the anger turning into something else. Something weaker, sadder.

"Pam, I know you are hurting and you are scared but he can't hurt you anymore. He's gone now."

Pam looked away again as moisture filled her eyes. She clutched her blanket tightly with both of her small hands.

"He will never hurt you again. Ever. I will promise you that." She said with such ferocity that Pam actually looked up and met her mother's eyes.

A tear dropped from her eyes as she quietly whispered, "You promise?"

Her mother reached forward and wrapped her arms around her daughter. Pam clutched to her tightly.

"I promise."

She rubbed her back soothingly for a few minutes before pulling away and looking at her daughter again. "Now." She smiled slightly and wiped away her daughter's tears. "What about this Jim?"

Pam reluctantly smiled and looked down.

--

"Jim-bo!"

Jim cringed as Michael came waltzing out of his office and planted his body on the left side of his desk. He met his eyes hesitantly.

"What can I do for you Michael?"

He could feel Dwight's curious eyes from his desk. Michael gave a forceful chuckle and picked up a pencil from Jim's desk, twirling it between his fingers. "I was just wondering, when is Pam coming back?"

Jim reached forward, plucking the pencil out of Michael's grip and slamming it back in the holder. "I told you Michael, four times now, I don't know. She hasn't called me."

"Oh, she hasn't called you, eh?" Michael raised his eyebrows and made eye contact with the camera for a split second. "Trouble in paradise?"

The look Jim gave Michael was one of the utmost disgust and contempt. He narrowed his eyes. "What paradise?"

"Oh, don't play stupid Jimmy, we all know."

"All know what?"

Dwight leaned forward in his chair and smiled menacingly. "That you and Pam had an affair and that's why Roy punched you in the office and why she is staying with her mom."

Jim's jaw actually dropped. He realized he was blatantly staring with his jaw slack when he snapped himself out of it. He felt anger coursing through his body. He leaned forward in his chair.

"Dwight, me and Pam-"

"Are none of your business."

Jim turned his head so rapidly in his chair that he actually felt his neck crack in protest. There Pam was, standing, clutching a file of papers to her chest and holding her purse in her hand.

She looked at Jim for a moment before averting her eyes back to Dwight. "And who spread those rumors, Dwight?"

"They aren't rumors if they are true." He stated smugly, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his chest.

Pam smiled slightly. "Oh, so, you and Angela, that's not considered a rumor?"

Dwight's face reddened visibly and he averted his eyes. "I have work to do." He muttered quietly. Jim suppressed a chuckle as Michael hopped off his desk and walked towards Pam.

"Pam!"

He reached forward and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. She winced slightly in pain as he came in contact with her many still healing bruises. Jim gave her a worried glance. She gave him a small smile.

"So glad you are back. Now, I have some files for you that you need to look at and some corporate e-mails that I just can't figure out. Oh, and I want to have another 80's party and the party crew just can't function without you. And there-"

Michael continued to rattle of instructions as Pam looked over his shoulder at Jim who was smiling softly at her. She put down the file on her desk and nodded towards the door, all the while Michael still talking.

Jim stood up and grabbed his coat, following her out to the parking lot, aware that Michael was continuing to talk to the space where Pam used to be standing.

They walked down the stairs in silence, with only the sounds of their feet coming in contact with the flooring to comfort them. Jim cast a sidelong glance at Pam and noticed that she was smiling, slightly.

Once in the parking lot, she turned to him. He smiled. "Hi."

She gave him a small smile back before it faded and she looked down at the ground, shuffling her feet. "I just wanted to tell you-"

She paused, taking another breath. He waited patiently. "I just wanted to say thanks. For, um, taking care of me."

She had met his eyes again and he noticed a blush creep up her cheeks. He was vaguely aware of the blush creeping up his own.

"You didn't have to do that." She whispered quietly.

"Yeah, I did."

"No." She shook her head. "No, you didn't. You didn't have to take me in your home and go driving all over the state to find me."

He reached forward and took her gloved hand in his bare one. He rubbed his thumb over the fabric softly. "No, Pam, I did. I couldn't let him-"

"Don't. I'm trying to forget."

"Pam, I don't think you are going to be able to forget about this." He stated softly. She moved her round eyes up to his.

"Don't say that. I have to believe this goes away. This pain has to go away. Soon, right?"

He smiled at her frantic eyes reassuringly. "Yeah, soon."

She smiled and gripped his hand tightly, leaning into his chest.

--

He was alone in his bed, just about to drift off to sleep when the door to his room creaked open slowly. He heard feet moving across the carpet and then felt weight next to him in bed.

He scooted over, making room.

"Is this alright?" He heard her voice in the dark, close to his ear.

He smiled, even though he knew she couldn't see it. "You know it is, Pam."

She slid under the covers and rearranged the pillow behind her head, lying down on her side, facing him. He mirrored her position.

"What's wrong?" He whispered quietly.

"Nothing." She replied.

"Liar."

He heard her sigh and turn onto her back. "It's been a month, Jim."

"Yeah, I know."

"And I can't move on. And you have been so patient with me. And nice and amazing and wonderful and-"

"Okay, stop."

"What?"

"I love flattery as much as the next guy but that's a little much."

"But it's true."

"Pam-" He groaned.

"No, Jim. It isn't fair. You are so amazing and patient and I can't move on from this. I can't make it go away."

She slammed her fists down on the mattress and felt warm tears of frustration spring to her eyes. Jim sighed next to her and threw his arm over her waist gently. She turned in his arm.

"I'm sorry." She whispered quietly.

"Don't be sorry for things you can't control. I can wait, Pam." He whispered just as quietly.

"You shouldn't have to."

"Yeah, I should. I understand you need time."

"I just-"

"I know."

"I don't-"

"I know." He stated again. He heard her sigh and reach down for his hand, gripping it tightly in her own.

"You're getting better now." He whispered softly. She smiled and scooted closer in his arms, letting his comfort seep into her own body.

--

She was angry. And had a headache the size of a small state. The woman in front of her at the grocery store didn't seem to understand that the express line meant fast. Faster than usual. It meant you move at a speeded pace. Not price check every. Single. Item.

She slammed the car door shut and walked up the stairs to his, no, their apartment balancing a bag of groceries on her knee. She pushed through the door and called out for him, dropping the bags in the hallway, momentarily not caring.

He didn't answer and she moved forward, looking around the darkened house. Fear settled in her stomach as she went through the dark family room.

"Jim?"

She walked into the kitchen and her heart stopped.

"Oh, Jim."

He was sitting at the table, dressed in a shirt and tie. The table itself was decorated with lighted candles and rose petals while all her favorite dishes were scattered around the top.

She put a hand to her mouth as he looked up and gave her a shy smile.

"I thought you could use a pick me up, you had a rough week."

She looked at the table and then moved her eyes back to him. And then she knew. She knew that he would never, ever hurt her in the way that Roy did. She knew that he couldn't ever hurt her in that way. It wasn't possible for him.

Tears sprung to her eyes as she looked back at the table. He stood up, the chair squeaking.

"Are you alright?"

She strode forward quickly and pulled down on his tie so that his face met her own. She kissed him so suddenly that he actually stumbled forward slightly. When she pulled away, he looked at her curiously.

She smiled. "I'm ready."

He looked at her carefully. "Are you sure? Because I don't want to rush you into something that you aren't ready for. I didn't make this dinner to-"

She cut him off with another kiss, letting her purse drop by her side. He responded by wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer to his body.

She pulled away again, catching her breath. "You didn't make this dinner to what?"

"Force you into bed with me."

"Oh?" She quirked an eyebrow and he smiled at her, ducking down his head and capturing her lips in his own again.

He began walking her backwards. She let out a giggle against his mouth as she stumbled against a chair leg. He caught her quickly, bracing her back with his hand.

She regained her composure and looked up at him, her eyes soft.

"Hey."

"Hey."

She put her hand on his cheek as he kissed her softly. His hand was tangled up in her hair as he started moving her backwards again.

Her shirt fell to the ground in the hallway.

His shirt was thrown over the lamp haphazardly.

Their bodies crashed against the mattress.

Her laugh was loud in the dark.

His hands were warm on her skin.

The groceries lay on the ground in the hallway, abandoned and forgotten.


End file.
